sleeping on a metal bench in the afternoon
Waiting for the organ player to find my tune
the sun is warm and the breeze is light
This is a sleep I don’t want to fight

I tilt my head and let my lips part
when I drift off the drool will start
I shall dream of nectarines on the sea
for when my grandson comes to visit me

My legs will be the first I see
their shadow no longer just beneath
I shake the sleep from my knees
it’s time for dinner with my niece

off I trod a happy fellow
I was left alone to mellow
perhaps again the bench will be
A place for me to rest my feet